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Wednesday, 15 March 2017

The Chronicles Of A Middle-Aged Vampire PART 7

I put on the clothes and a sweater Sheila had left for me. My ID and my purse where in the bedside table drawer along with my phone. I was good to go.

Eager to get me out before the doctor examined my injuries (now healed) Donald sneaked me past the Nurse's station and out through a service corridor that led to the entrance to the Hospital morgue. Day was breaking and except for the squeak of the occasional Hospital staff's orthopaedic footwear and the clatter of surgical steel the area was dead quiet...Which was ironic, since we crossed paths with some funeral-home employees picking up "work" in a long black hearse.

Yep. Life as one of the living dead was sure proving cheery. As the gurney trundled past us, a hand flopped out. A big hand with nicotine stained fingers and burnt oil permanently ingrained under the thick fingernails. I knew that hand. Frank's hand. My stomach turned over. Frank dead and wearing a neat Y incision on his hairy chest.

It must have been a slow night for the M.E, to have sorted him out so quickly. But then again, this town wasn't exactly crime capital of the Western World, so Frank's murder must have been exotic enough to bring some excitement to the pathologist's usual roll of hum-drum deaths by natural causes.

The hearse attendants loaded him on, and I noted the discreet lettering on the back door: Silverman & Stell Lda.

I would have to speak to Sheila about the arrangements I presumed she'd make... SHIT! I suddenly realised my daughter would be in a panic at my sudden departure from the Hospital. I scrounged in my pockets and pulled out my cell. I typed out a quick message: Checked myself out. All good. Meet you at the house later. Love MOM.

There. I followed Donnie out to the parking lot and a shiny low-slung canary-yellow two-seater sports car. OMG! A Vampire in a Tweetie-bird coloured car... This was bad.

Donnie opened the passenger door with a flourish and graciously gestured me in. The interior was pimp-purple and the seats were plush velour. This was even worse. Maybe I could get a ride in the hearse with Frank...